For we do not want you to be unaware, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. (2 Corinthians 1.8-9)

In the age of TikTok theology, it shouldn’t be surprising to see excessive controversy over minor quibbles, and as our society moves ever farther down the road of policing each other’s words, it was, perhaps, inevitable that arguments would arise over whether certain platitudes are theologically correct.  One of these arguments concerns the oft-repeated words of encouragement, “God will never give you more in life than you can handle.”  The passage above seems to disagree with that sentiment!  On the contrary, Paul says the reason God gives us trials is to teach us to  “rely not on ourselves but on God.”  On top of that, while the platitude is so often repeated, usually word-for-word and with a sense of authority, no such verse appears anywhere in the Bible!  Imagine trying to encourage a fellow Christian using words that came, not from God, but from man!  Perhaps the cliche is wrong, and should be replaced: God will give you more than you can handle!

Of course, that sentence isn’t in the Bible, either.  It’s a conclusion drawn from the passage quoted above.  But if we can defend our replacement on those grounds, then we should really consider the defense given for the more common version of the proverb.

No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation he will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. (1 Corinthians 10.13)

Well, that seems to support the notion that God doesn’t give us more than we can handle—at least in the context of temptation.  But that’s a more specialized application, dealing with sin, not just the everyday trials of life, right?  Not exactly.  Paul pointed out that God gives us unbearable trials to teach us to rely on him, as we established at the start.  But he also says we won’t be tempted more than we can handle; and, as James tells us,

Let no one say when he is tempted, “I am being tempted by God,” for God cannot be tempted with evil, and he himself tempts no one. But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. (James 1.13-14)

So, unbearable trials come from God, and temptations come from Satan—or from our own lusts.  Yet, it’s clear that God must be involved in that procedure, in order to restrain Satan.  We can even see an example of this process in action, through Job.

And the Lord said to Satan, “Have you considered my servant Job, that there is none like him on the earth, a blameless and upright man, who fears God and turns away from evil?” Then Satan answered the Lord and said, “Does Job fear God for no reason? Have you not put a hedge around him and his house and all that he has, on every side? You have blessed the work of his hands, and his possessions have increased in the land. But stretch out your hand and touch all that he has, and he will curse you to your face.” And the Lord said to Satan, “Behold, all that he has is in your hand. Only against him do not stretch out your hand.” (Job 1.8-12)

This passage illustrates an uncomfortable fact for those arguing against our old platitude: trial and temptation are, to an extent, in the eye of the beholder.  In the New Testament, there’s only one Greek word (πειρασμός-peirasmos—and its derivatives) that is translated trial or temptation, depending on the context.  From Satan’s perspective, what he was about to do to Job was certainly a series of temptations—he was eagerly hoping Job would fail.  From God’s perspective, it was a series of trials, which God wanted Job to successfully pass—which is why he planted the notion in Satan’s mind in the first place. 

Ultimately, all trials can also be viewed as temptations—and God has guaranteed that any temptation that overtakes us is within our ability to withstand.  We can handle them!  But what does it mean, to handle trials and temptations?  It doesn’t mean we have the ability to get out of them, or to change the course of the world’s events, molding them to suit our own desires.  If that’s what you mean by “handle,” then God will absolutely give you more than you can handle!  But what really matters is to experience a life full of trials, while keeping your relationship with God intact.  God assures us that this—not the bare minimum, but the only thing that truly matters in the end—is within our ability.

But how?  Let’s go back to Job—how did he successfully “handle” his unbearable trials?  By remaining faithful to God, and relying completely on him!  We’re back where we started.  Join your own efforts with Christ’s strength—as Paul did, while suffering both trial and temptation in a Roman prison: “I can do all things through him who strengthens me” (Php 4.13).  Is Paul arrogantly dismissing the weight of his trial?  Far from it.  Is he refusing to put in effort of his own, on the grounds that it’s up to Jesus?  On the contrary, he says, I can do it. It’s a huge mistake to think you have within yourself the strength to bear whatever comes your way in this life; one day, you’ll discover you don’t.  But it’s also a mistake to surrender to your trials—that’s not endurance, or character or hope—the fruits suffering should produce in us (Ro 5.3-5).  Instead of getting caught up in arguments such as this one, focus on being prepared for trials, and doing all things through Christ, who strengthens you.

Jeremy Nettles

And when the Lord smelled the pleasing aroma, the Lord said in his heart, “I will never again curse the ground because of man, for the intention of man's heart is evil from his youth. Neither will I ever again strike down every living creature as I have done. While the earth remains, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night, shall not cease.” (Genesis 8.21-22)

God made the universe in such a way that the earth goes through continual cycles—day and night, the moon’s phases, and the seasons being the three most obvious.  These cycles give us observable and relatable markers of time, but they also govern our lives.  We don’t often acknowledge this, and yet when it comes to the sun, we can scarcely imagine life without the continual alternation of day and night, or the cycle of seasons. 

It’s important to note that this is not a mere coincidence of nature.  It’s the way things are, and so of course all living creatures have learned to behave in relative harmony with it, but nevertheless, God created it, and we should not accuse him of carelessness.

Man understood, for thousands of years, just how important was the sun’s course in the sky to his continued survival, and for all our advances in science and technology, we would do well to relearn that lesson today.  Pagans all over the world looked up at the sky and found significance in what they saw there, and they often left behind structures that tell us so, even without a written explanation.  Stonehenge, the ring of astonishingly large stones erected in England some 4,500 years ago, was carefully arranged with lines pointing directly toward the sunrise and sunset at the summer and winter solstices.  The 12^th-century Khmer temple complex called Angkor Wat, in Cambodia, features structures similarly aligned for each solstice, as well as spring and fall equinoxes.  The ancient Mnajdra temple complex on the island of Malta uses a precisely aligned gateway to direct the light of the equinox morning sunrise straight through the middle of the shrine to light up the rear niche.  We could add to this list the Mayan pyramid at Chichen Itza, the Egyptian pyramid complex at Giza, and many more.  Although they often reflect a misguided reverence for the sun itself, rather than its Creator, they all illustrate the divine significance man has seen in the sun’s cycles since time immemorial. 

It wasn’t just the pagans.  God made use of a similar phenomenon, when he told Moses,

“This month shall be for you the beginning of months. It shall be the first month of the year for you. Tell all the congregation of Israel that on the tenth day of this month every man shall take a lamb according to their fathers' houses, …and you shall keep it until the fourteenth day of this month, when the whole assembly of the congregation of Israel shall kill their lambs at twilight.” (Exodus 12.2-6)

In instituting the Passover, he also instructed Israel how to arrange its calendar.  Since the months of the Hebrew calendar begin on the night when a New Moon is first sighted, pinning the Passover to the evening of the 14^th would ensure it coincided with the Full Moon following the spring equinox, which  roughly correlates with the beginning of the month Aviv—which means, spring.  The Feast of Booths and Day of Atonement roughly coincide with the fall equinox, as well.

It doesn’t end there.  Let’s consider the winter solstice in particular.  God never commanded Israel to observe a holiday around this time of year, but we saw many examples where pagans recognized its symbolism.  After six months of the night getting progressively longer than the day, it hits its most extreme point, with the sun appearing farthest south in the sky, and the shortest day of the year.  And then the tide turns, and the days get longer until the summer solstice, as if the light is beginning to gain the upper hand in a battle with darkness.  By the time “the Word became flesh and dwelt among us” (Jn 1.14), the Jews had a feast for this time of year.  It commemorated the ousting of Gentile overlords from the Temple, and its purification and rededication to the worship of the one true God; and Jesus himself made sure to go up to Jerusalem and the Temple to celebrate.

At that time the Feast of Dedication took place at Jerusalem. It was winter, and Jesus was walking in the temple, in the colonnade of Solomon. (John 10.22-23)

In Hebrew, “the dedication” is Hanukkah, but most modern Jews prefer the name applied by the 1^st-century historian Josephus: The Feast of Lights.  This comes from a purported miracle surrounding the Temple’s lampstand, but the timing of the feast suggests that, one way or another, it owed to the winter solstice and the symbolic rebirth of the sun each year. 

The same is true of Christmas.  We have no idea on what date Jesus was born.  He clearly didn’t think it was terribly important for us to know, or he would have made sure to tell us.  But within a few centuries of the church being established, a debate raged over the topic, with various suggestions considered until, December 25 won out.  Whether it truly is the birthdate of Christ, only God knows; but like the alignment of Stonehenge, or the arrangement of the Egyptian pyramids, or even the Jewish Feast of Lights, it’s not an accident that Jesus’ birth has been commemorated by so many, for so long, so near the winter solstice.  The cold, the dead, and the darkness get worse and worse, as the sun sinks lower and lower in the sky.  But then the light begins to return, and with it, hope that life may continue, and even thrive.

The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world. (John 1.9)

Jeremy Nettles

As the Israelites prepared to cross the Jordan river and undertake the enormous task of driving out the Canaanites from their promised inheritance, Joshua found himself in the lonely position as their leader. Moses had been in charge for forty years—their entire lifetime, for most of them —but he had just died. Joshua had been his “assistant” (Jos 1.1), and had been hand-picked as Moses’ successor; but during those forty years Joshua always answered to Moses, got instructions from Moses, and knew the final decisions fell to Moses. Now, the whole nation was looking to him for leadership. What a burden to shoulder!

God reminded Joshua that while his position looked rather different now, it really wasn’t. “Just as I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will not leave you or forsake you. Be strong and courageous, for you shall cause this people to inherit the land that I swore to their fathers to give them. Only be strong and very courageous, being careful to do according to all the law that Moses my servant commanded you. Do not turn from it to the right hand or to the left, that you may have good success wherever you go. This Book of the Law shall not depart from your mouth, but you shall meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do according to all that is written in it. For then you will make your way prosperous, and then you will have good success. Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1.5-9)

From Joshua’s perspective in the past, it looked like Moses was the lonely leader, burdened with the weight of this great nation’s physical and spiritual well-being, and with the power to make momentous decisions, as well as the responsibility for how each one turned out. But, despite what people tend to assume, Moses was never alone; God was always with him.

Moses never had to make critical decisions; God made the decisions and Moses carried them out. It’s not that Moses’ job was an easy one—often the decisions God handed down were not popular with the people, and he faced rebellions of all shapes and sizes, as well as occasions when a lesser man would have simply given up and let this bullheaded nation carry on headlong to disaster against God’s instructions. But he was never alone, and neither would Joshua be alone. As he answered to Moses before, now he would answer to God.

God also told Joshua how to conduct himself in his position of authority, and it wasn’t advice about how to get people to obey, how to deal with opposition and get what you want—none of that. What did he tell him? To meditate on the law, repeat its words, and carry out its commands. And at the start (v6), in the middle (v7), and once more at the end (v9), he repeats the exhortation: “be strong and courageous.”

We don’t typically think of obedience as a courageous act, and certainly not a reflection of strength. Rather, we see submission as a sign of weakness. Surely, if he were strong, he wouldn’t let someone else boss him around! He’d do what he deems best, and surge forward with confidence in his choices and his ability to bind them on his inferiors! But, while this is our human inclination, we must all acknowledge that God is stronger than we are! That being the case, it’s perfectly appropriate to submit to his wishes—even in the face of an angry mob out for your blood! Joshua was going to face many hardships during the course of his tenure as leader over Israel, and the way to handle them with courage and strength was not to elevate himself, rule with an iron fist, or rely on his own judgment and will. Rather, it was to recognize his proper role, and fulfill it to the best of his ability, adhering to God’s will and judgment, and relying on God’s strength.

Joshua would be leading Israel against enemies in bloody battles for years to come, facing dangers few of us have faced, and continuing to run toward peril, in service to God. Knowing that Moses had faced just as much opposition from his own people as from hostile nations, how welcome this encouragement must have been! But it didn’t stop there. When Joshua assembled the leaders of each tribe and told them it was time to make preparations for their invasion, what did they answer?

And they answered Joshua, “All that you have commanded us we will do, and wherever you send us we will go. Just as we obeyed Moses in all things, so we will obey you. Only may the LORD your God be with you, as he was with Moses! Whoever rebels against your commandment and disobeys your words, whatever you command him, shall be put to death. Only be strong and courageous.” (Joshua 1.16-18)

Nothing can stand against God’s purpose, but we’re given the choice, whether to put ourselves on his side, or the side of his enemies. Often, the Israelites chose the latter, and incurred all sorts of frustration and judgment as a result. But when they repeated God’s own words and determined to abide by his will, nothing could stand against them, either! Today, God’s people are not establishing a physical kingdom. “We do not wrestle against flesh and blood” (Ep 6.12). But we are nevertheless engaged in a spiritual warfare, as we

“destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ,” (2 Corinthians 10.5)

seeking a home in God’s promised rest. As you participate in this battle for spirit and soul, follow the good example set by the Israelites. Be strong and courageous.

Jeremy Nettles

Psalm 22 is one of the richest chapters in the Old Testament, in terms of its messianic prophecies.  Nearly everyone will recognize the first line, and many can even quote it in Aramaic, because that’s how Matthew and Mark record it for us:

And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” that is, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” (Matthew 27.46)

He’s deliberately quoting Psalm 22. There’s debate whether the sentiment expressed is an accurate representation of what was happening between Jesus and his Father at that moment, or only a reference to a psalm full of prophecies; there’s an answer available to that debate, but it’s not our purpose at present.  Whatever Jesus felt at that time, he surely said this at least partly to direct the minds of those who stood there, watching him die, to the prophecies he was fulfilling.

It’s sad to say, by and large they didn’t get it.  “And some of the bystanders, hearing it, said, ‘This man is calling Elijah’” (Mt 27.47).  He was not calling Elijah.  Elijah had nothing to do with it.  Their idea wasn’t totally baseless—the final two sentences of the Old Testament promise, “Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the great and awesome day of the Lord comes” (Mal 4.5), and as the populace wanted for the Son of David to come and save them, this messianic prophecy had taken center stage.  Needless to say, they were a bit confused about what it meant, though.  And even while they misapplied one messianic prophecy, they completely missed the one Jesus actually meant.

But Psalm 22 is among the most powerful prophecies in the Bible!  It didn’t only predict that Jesus would feel forsaken by God; there’s so much more! 

“All who see me mock me; they make mouths at me; they wag their heads…” (Psalm 22.7)

The sign placed above Jesus on the cross read, “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews” (Jn 19.19).  The bystanders, including the chief priests, scribes, and elders, and even the thieves crucified alongside Jesus “derided him, wagging their heads.”  But it gets even more specific.  In Psalm 22, the mockers say, “He trusts in the Lord; let him deliver him; let him rescue him, for he delights in him!” (v8).  What did the religious authorities say about Jesus?

“He saved others; he cannot save himself. He is the King of Israel; let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him. He trusts in God; let God deliver him now, if he desires him. For he said, ‘I am the Son of God.’” (Matthew 27.42-43)

These are the people whose job it is to know the Scriptures!  Do they hear themselves quoting Psalm 22 to their own detriment?  Apparently not.

I am poured out like water,

        and all my bones are out of joint… (Psalm 22.14a)

Part of this is metaphor, but part of it is not.  Victims of crucifixion had their entire bodyweight suspended by their outstretched arms at an awkward angle, putting enormous tension on the joints.  Their shoulders, at least, were usually dislocated.

…my heart is like wax;

        it is melted within my breast… (Psalm 22.14b)

Crucifixion is a convoluted method of execution, because it’s not blood loss or direct disruption of the nervous system that brings on death.  Instead, the awkward position diminishes lung capacity and makes it progressively difficult to breathe, slowly suffocating the victim over a period of several, miserable hours.  This naturally leads to heart trouble, as it races to compensate for decreased oxygen in the blood, and meanwhile isn’t getting enough oxygen itself.

…my strength is dried up like a potsherd,

        and my tongue sticks to my jaws;

        you lay me in the dust of death. (Psalm 22.15)

One of the few things Jesus said from the cross was very simple: “I thirst” (Jn 19.28).

For dogs encompass me;

        a company of evildoers encircles me;

        they have pierced my hands and feet… (Psalm 22.16)

Presumably this needs little explanation.  It’s one more in a long string of fulfillments, and is among the most alarmingly precise of all the messianic prophecies.

…they divide my garments among them,

        and for my clothing they cast lots. (Psalm 22.18)

It’s not always acknowledged that victims of crucifixion weren’t generally given any provision for modesty.  Their clothes were removed when they were put on the cross.  What did the soldiers do with the clothes?  “And when they had crucified him, they divided his garments among them by casting lots” (Mt 27.35).

There are more of these to be found in Psalm 22, but those are the most obvious, and it forms an astonishing picture.  When David composed Psalm 22, he didn’t know the importance of what he was writing; but in retrospect, now that we know its fulfillment, it’s impossible to read without seeing Jesus in every line!  Apart from a testament to God’s foreknowledge and the surety of his prophecies, what does it matter?  Well, the Psalm doesn’t end with its protagonist being stripped of his clothes; in the face of certain death, he still looks forward to life—to being rescued!  And what would be the effect?  Let’s give the last word to the Psalm:

All the ends of the earth shall remember

                       and turn to the Lord,

        and all the families of the nations

                       shall worship before you.

For kingship belongs to the Lord,

        and he rules over the nations. (Psalm 22.27-28)

Jeremy Nettles

But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him release for them Barabbas instead. And Pilate again said to them, “Then what shall I do with the man you call the King of the Jews?” And they cried out again, “Crucify him.” And Pilate said to them, “Why? What evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Crucify him.” So Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd, released for them Barabbas, and having scourged Jesus, he delivered him to be crucified. (Mark 15.11-15)

This passage is just one short snippet of all that was said and done in the process of shuffling Jesus off to be crucified, but its overall theme can teach us a lot about human nature and our own desires.  Pilate had not wished to execute Jesus—not out of allegiance to justice, but out of a desire to keep his jurisdiction in order, avoiding nasty riots and civil conflict.  Knowing that the Jewish authorities were trying to get rid of Jesus “out of envy” (Mk 15.10), Pilate appealed to the crowd, and demonstrated  why it’s a mistake to appeal to the majority in any argument.  Even if the majority was on your side a moment ago, that doesn’t mean it’s going to stay that way, and now you’ve handed over the decision to the mob.  In this case, that was, “Crucify him.”  Caught off guard and unwilling to believe this was really the prevailing opinion, Pilate asked their reasoning: “Why?  What evil has he done?”  In response, we might have expected a repeat of the charges the council had filed against Jesus when they first brought him to Pilate: “We found this man misleading our nation and forbidding us to give tribute to Caesar, and saying that he himself is Christ, a king” (Lk 23.2).  But Pilate had found these charges to be ridiculous, so they didn’t repeat them.  What’s their answer, then?  What’s their rationale for wanting Jesus executed?  Their reply is telling: “Crucify him” (Mk 15.14).  There’s no explanation, no insight into Jesus’ nefarious deeds.  Instead, it’s an exercise of pure will.  Why crucify him?  Stop asking questions and just do it!

The same spirit was at work the next day, when the chief priests and Pharisees—the same folks who’d repeatedly faulted Jesus for healing on the Sabbath, mind you—found it quite reasonable to seek an audience with Pilate and conduct their own official business on the Sabbath, in order to set a guard on Jesus’ tomb.  Why?  They told Pilate,

“Sir, we remember how that impostor said, while he was still alive, ‘After three days I will rise.’ Therefore order the tomb to be made secure until the third day, lest his disciples go and steal him away and tell the people, ‘He has risen from the dead,’ and the last fraud will be worse than the first.” (Matthew 27.63-64)

The purpose of the guard was to make absolutely sure there could be no grave robbery.  But Jesus’s body went missing, anyway.  The guards reported the arrival of a  being with superhuman strength and such a dazzling appearance that these trained men-at-arms fainted out of fright (Mt 28.2-3, 11).  What did the authorities conclude?

[T]hey gave a sufficient sum of money to the soldiers and said, “Tell people, ‘His disciples came by night and stole him away while we were asleep.’ And if this comes to the governor's ears, we will satisfy him and keep you out of trouble.” (Matthew 28.12-14)

Let’s not bother asking how the soldiers were supposed to know the identities of the grave robbers, if they were asleep; instead, let’s focus on the ones in charge.  They’d demanded guards from Pilate, to avert precisely this problem!  Yet, it’s their only explanation of what happened to Jesus’ body.  They may even have managed to convince themselves it was really true.  But it’s obvious they’d already determined the conclusion—just as they had done with regard to crucifying Jesus—and all reason had gone out the window, in order to get where they wanted.

But it’s not just the chief priests and the Pharisees.  It’s human nature.  They’d already made a judgment, determining a particular endpoint to be good, and so even when contrary evidence was presented along the way to reaching their desired goal, they flatly disregarded it, and stuck to the narrative they’d already established.  We could call this prejudice, and rightly condemn these people for it; yet, we all engage in prejudice.  Despite what we’d like to think, prejudice is, in fact, essential to everyday life!  We don’t have time in the day to thoroughly vet everyone and everything we encounter.  We have to make snap judgments with very few pieces of evidence.  Is this bridge strong enough for me to cross?  Does the approaching stranger mean me harm?  Is this lettuce safe to eat?  Has my vehicle’s extended warranty really expired?  When decisions must be immediate, we lump in a few scant facts with a large dose of prejudice, choose a course of action, and hope it was the right one.  When it’s rooted in truth, a certain degree of prejudice serves us well.  In the spiritual realm, it keeps us from being

tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes. (Ephesians 4.14)

But when our prejudices are rooted in our selfish desires—as were those of the authorities seeking to do away with Jesus—it leads very obviously in the wrong direction!  The highest official in the land declared Jesus innocent; no matter, crucify him!  Their own guards reported that an angel descended and rolled back the stone to Jesus’ now empty grave; no, his disciples stole the body!  It’s easy to see their folly, but the truth is that we’ve all done this.  We all do this.  Can we see it in ourselves?  As we strive to be more closely conformed to the image of Christ, is it a true reflection of God’s glory, or an idol we’ve built in our own image?

Jeremy Nettles